Facing The Truth
by DiTab1
Summary: One Shot.  Set Mid-Season 4.  Dean has returned from Hell and he's been keeping a secret from Sam.  One night it becomes impossible to keep hiding it any longer... will Sam run away or stay?  R & R encouraged!  No pairings/No Slash.  Enjoy!


**A/N: Set mid-season 4. Just something that had been bouncing around my head for awhile... hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own them... sadly. The boys and the SPNverse still belong to Kripke (but he doesn't seem to mind if I take them out and play with them from time to time...)**

He woke up on the edge of a scream. This, in and of itself, wasn't exactly new. He'd almost began to feel somewhat comforted by the nightmares. At least they meant he was still out, still free and still back with Sam. But, this latest one was almost more than he could handle.

It wasn't exactly a nightmare, more a memory that lurked at the back of his consciousness until he closed his eyes and surrendered to the inevitable. Then, when he was at his most vulnerable, when nothing could protect him...then they all came flooding back. Each memory held it's own pain but this one was the one that drove the knife back into his heart. This one brought all of the pain and guilt back in a soul crushing torrent. This one he couldn't ever let go of.

"Dean... do you want to talk about it?"

His brother's voice was heavy from sleep but he could still hear the tinge of worry that accompanied the question. Most of the time he could pull out of the dream before it became impossible to hide from his brother. Apparently, this time he hadn't been quite so lucky. He silently hoped that he hadn't said anything in his sleep that would tip his brother off to the details of the nightmare that had brought them to this moment.

"No... 'sall right Sammy... go back to bed. Sorry I woke you." He tried to keep the tremor from his voice, still reeling internally from the events that had just been replaying in his mind.

"You keep saying that Dean but... obviously it's not all right." Sam sat up and flicked on the lamp that sat on the small end table between their beds. "I know you said you wouldn't talk about it but that doesn't exactly seem to be working out so great for you. Are you sure you don't want to rethink that decision?"

He hated to admit it but he knew Sam was right. Sitting up, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself for the conversation that he knew he couldn't avoid any longer. The nightmares were getting worse and he wasn't sleeping much. At this rate he was liable to do something stupid from lack of sleep and get himself, or worse get Sammy, hurt or killed. He needed to talk to someone and, as always, Sam was the only one he could really trust.

"Tell me Dean. I can handle anything you say. I won't break. I won't run away screaming. Nothing you could tell me would change anything. I need to know. It was my name you were screaming... "

That shook him. He'd hoped, even now, to avoid that part of the story. Sam knew some of it... he knew that the time he had been gone was much longer than it was here. He knew that Dean had broke; that he'd picked up the knife... but he could never bear to tell him the rest. He knew Sammy. He already felt guilty for this, even though none of it was his fault. He had refused to put any more of the weight on his brother's shoulders. This had been his decision and Sam didn't deserve to suffer for it.

He reached for the bottle of whiskey on the night stand hoping to calm his frayed nerves and stop the shaking before Sammy was awake enough to notice just how deeply this dream had affected him.

"Dean. You can't keep numbing the pain with alcohol. This is killing you. All that's going to do is speed the process along. If that's what you want, I won't stop you... but don't ask me to sit here and watch you kill yourself. I watched you die once, I won't do it again..."

"Sammy... you don't understand. You weren't there. You don't know the things... the things I did..."

"Dean - "

"No! Don't tell me you don't care. Don't tell me it doesn't matter. It does. Do you want to know Sam? Really? Do you want to hear what I was dreaming about... what I was remembering?"

He was angry now... Anger was good. Anger would protect him from the pain when Sam heard the truth, the whole truth. When he finally realized just what kind of a monster his brother really was... when he left...

"Yes." One word. One little word and Dean felt his small grip on happiness slip from his fingers. There would be no getting away this time. His anger burst like a bubble in the face of the fear that suddenly swept over him. There was no turning back this time. The truth was going to come out no matter how much he hated it.

"It was you." He looked up into his brothers eyes. He could see the longing there, the desperate need to help, to make this better. He wondered how long it would take that longing to turn to the burning hatred that he knew would come.

"Tell me Dean."

"I don't know how long it had been. The days all seemed to blur together after awhile. It seemed like forever. I tried Sammy... I swear to God I did. Every day he'd come and make that offer. Every damned day I'd wait, covered in my own blood, knowing that all it would take to end it was a simple, 'Yes'. But each day I remembered why I was there. Every time he made that offer I saw your face. I thought about what you would think and I told him what to do with his offer. Every day... until that last one..."

He picked up the bottle again, thinking about how good it would feel to numb the pain. Seeing the way his brother watched the bottle in his hand just intensified the guilt he was already feeling. As much as he wanted it, he put the bottle back on the night stand. He had to do this on his own, sober, no crutch to lean on.

"There was another table set up next to mine. Sometimes it was empty. Sometimes there would be another damned soul going through the same tortures I had been through. That day, as I lay on the table waiting for Alistair, I heard them whispering. Someone was coming. A special treat. I was too tired and in too much pain to care too much about who that was. At least until Alistair came... with you."

The shocked look on his brother's face ate at his heart. Sam opened his mouth to say something but he knew he had to finish this. He had to get it all out now or he never would.

"I know. It wasn't you. You were here the whole time. But, I didn't know that then. I hurt Sam... I hurt worse then anything you could imagine. The things they had done to me..." An involuntary shiver ran through him as the memories of all of the different creative ways he had been tortured spilled through his mind.

"I... I was so happy to see you... and at the same time I hated that you were there. I knew I'd failed again. I just knew you'd done something stupid to try to save me. What other reason would there be for you being in Hell? At that moment I hated you Sam..." He swallowed back the agony he felt at the admission. He could feel the tears stinging behind his eyes and forced himself to continue.

"After everything I'd done. Everything I'd gone through so that you could have a life... so you could have all the things we never had... and you'd gone and done something stupid and now you were there... with me... it was all for nothing... I watched them strap you to the table. I could see the fear in your eyes. That sobered me. I tried to get loose, tried to figure out a way to get you out of there but I knew it was hopeless."

"I hadn't been able to get myself free so there was no way I was gonna be able to help you. I gave up. Just like that. I accepted the fact that you were going to suffer, right there, next to me. That I was going to have to sit by and watch while they did things to you that you couldn't even begin to imagine. And you know the worst part Sam? You know what kills me... A part of me was glad. A part of me was happy you were strapped to that table... that you were there to suffer... with me. That I wouldn't be alone anymore."

He could barely stand to look at his brother's face when he saw the tears escape from the corner of his eyes.

"How sick is that? What kind of a person am I that I was happy to see my brother in Hell? God Sam... when they cut you... when I heard you scream... I actually felt comforted. I hadn't heard your voice in so long... I didn't care if it was agony I heard... it was you. That's all that mattered."

"Dean... " He could tell his brother wanted to say something, anything, to make it better but... really, what was there to say?

"When they were done he came again. Like he did every day. He brought the knife they had been using on you. I could see your blood still dripping off of the blade... he made the offer, again... but this time it was different. This time he told me that I could torture you. That I could be in charge of what was done to you... 'Wouldn't it be better for you to do it then to let them have their way with him? You know the things they can come up with Dean... you know what they will do with him... to him... all you have to do is take the knife and you can protect him from the worst of it. Now, he won't get off the rack... can't have that, but at least you will be with him. He won't be alone... like you were.'"

"I tried to tell myself that I was doing it for you. That it wouldn't be so bad if it was me. I tried to make myself believe that... but I knew the truth. I took the knife. I agreed to the deal. I felt the blade slice into your flesh and I was happy... so long as I held that knife I wouldn't be alone. So long as I kept cutting I would always have you with me... "

He tried to stop the sob that had been building at the memory. His eyes flicked to Sam, terrified of what they would find. Sam sat quietly. Not moving. Tears now streaming down his face, not even attempting to stop them. The sight of those tears broke what little control he had left. He'd caused those tears. He'd hurt Sam... again.

"It was all a trick... as soon as I pulled the knife back from that first cut... you changed. It wasn't you on the table... I don't know who it was, don't care. I just knew that it had all been a lie. You weren't there. I was alone again. I had nothing left Sam. From that moment on I just didn't care anymore. I did whatever they told me to do. Hurt whoever they told me to. I..."

He couldn't go on. There wasn't really anything left to say. The rest didn't matter. Sam knew now. He knew what kind of a person he really was. Nothing would ever be the same again. He was so lost in his own misery that he hadn't noticed his brother getting up from the bed, walking the short distance to his, and sitting down next to him.

The feel of Sam's arms sliding around him, pulling him into an embrace that he knew he didn't deserve, caused a fresh wave of agony to rip through his heart. He tried to pull away, pushing against his brother's chest, trying to force the distance that he had so carefully maintained back between them. Sam had changed since he'd been gone, grown stronger and there was no breaking free of him.

"Dean, it wasn't real. None of it was real. Stop. Stop torturing yourself."

"How can you say that? Did you hear what I just told you? God... I was willing to cut you to ribbons Sammy... how can you... how could you ever forgive that?"

"If I'd been there, I'd have let you. Damn it Dean. When are you going to understand. You're my brother. I love you. I would do anything for you. You went to Hell for me Dean. Don't you get it? There is nothing you could do or say that will ever change what you mean to me. I wish I could get my hands on Alistair... I wish I could make him suffer for what he did to you, what he's still doing to you. You got out Dean. You got out of Hell... don't let him keep dragging you back every night. Let it go. If you need forgiveness then forgive yourself. There isn't anything you've done that I need to forgive."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd known, just known, that when Sam found out it would be the end of everything. Slowly, afraid that if he moved too quickly this would all dissolve and he would realize that this was the real dream, he allowed himself to return his brother's embrace.

"Dean... I was alone too. I spent four months trying to live without you... trying to find a way to make sense of it all and you know what? I'd rather suffer in Hell right beside you then to ever go through living without you again. If you thought this would send me running you better think again. Better or worse, we are all we have... we're family. You're stuck with me Dean."

They stayed like that, each holding tightly to the other, each remembering the Hell they had been through alone, for a long time. It was only after the tears had dried, the shaking had ceased and the tensions had eased from both of their bodies that they slowly moved apart. Without speaking they both slid under the covers of Dean's bed. It was a tight fit and they hadn't shared bed like this since they were kids. But, for one night, neither was quite willing to be even as far apart as the small distance between beds.

He heard his brother mumble a sleepy, "Night Dean."

"Love you Sammy..."

Laying his head down on his pillow, feeling the press of his brother's warm back against his, he felt at peace. For the first time since he'd been back Dean drifted off to a night of sleep unbroken by nightmares.


End file.
